A rush of adrenaline
by Lady Lola
Summary: After escaping a dangerous situation, John discovers a new side effect of his rush of adrenaline.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: this is the first porn fic I wrote, so I hope I didn't mess it up. Hope you'll enjoy it :)**

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><p>To be honest, he didn't really know how the situation got so wrong so quickly; few seconds earlier, they were looking for clues in the backroom of a seedy night club, trying to be silent and not to get caught by the bouncers.<br>Few moments later, they got suddenly encircled by five of the biggest man he's ever seen (quite a lot of exercises, definitely tons of steroids).  
>He was fit and Sherlock knew few useful tricks of some martial arts, but there was no way they can manage to knock those giants down, so he did the only thing he could do: he grabbed Sherlock's hand and took advantage of a single mistake their enemies did to rush out the back door.<br>They ran recklessly for at least 20 minutes, John always dragging Sherlock, before they found a hidden alleyway and John literally threw Sherlock in it.

That - _that_ - was insane.  
>Definitely insane.<p>

John didn't actually know how they escaped that hell of a nightmare.

They rested still up against the wall for few seconds, heavily panting and coughing, before something in John's mind broke loose and he found himself pushing Sherlock against the wall and kissing him forcefully.  
>Their mouths were indecently open, their tongues were dancing one round the other as in the most difficult choreography ever and their moans sounded hungry and desperate in the cold and still winter air.<br>John spread Sherlock's lapels and nipped the sensitive neck the young detective was gently offering him, then slid his hands down his hips and reached the waistline, before being stopped by a belt.  
>He stopped for a second, then he unbuckled the belt, zipped sherlock's trousers down and pushed a hand in Sherlock's fly.<br>An anxious sound escaped the detective's mouth as he pushed his groin forward to meet John's hands, and John couldn't help but grinning and bit again the pale flesh of his neck;  
>then, he fell to his knees and pulled Sherlock's cock out to meet his lips.<br>When he felt John's warm breath and wet kiss on the tip of his cock, Sherlock almost lost his balance, though he was resting on a solid wall; John kept on kissing and lightly licking the whole length, moaning and making his tongue vibrate to increase Sherlock's pleasure to a level he never reached before.  
>When he spotted the first drops of precum on Sherlock's tip, John licked them away with lust and hunger, before taking his whole cock in his hot mouth and starting sucking harder and harder.<br>Sherlock felt his legs buckling and trembling as he tried hardly to keep at least a decent composure, and John clasped his fingers on Sherlock's buttocks and used them to push his friend's - or lover now? - penis  
>deeper in his mouth and throat.<br>The young man started feeling a hot outburst in his belly, telling him he was close - oh, so close - to climax.  
>"Joh-hon" he mumbled, "I think you probably would prefer to stop it now... I cant' keep it anymore..."<br>John gave a dry giggle, his mouth still surrounding Sherlock's dick, and he pushed one of his fingers between Sherlock's buttocks with dexterity; few seconds after John reached his little and intimate hole, Sherlock hissed a "Fuck" and came in John's mouth.  
>John swallowed his semen greedly, savouring his flatmate's - or lover now? - hot and salty essence and enjoying the blissed look on Sherlock's face.<br>He raised from the ground, standing in front of Sherlock and helping him re-arrange his trousers; he was smiling, not the lusty smile he had before, but a genuine happy smile as he kissed Sherlock on his lips again and Sherlock murmured him "Thank you... now please take me home and take me harder and harder 'till I'll be finally satisfied".

"Oh God, yes!" John exaled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author here: This is the second chapter of a story that was originally an one-shot.**

**I hope it won't disappoint who read the previous part.**

**There will probably be a third and last part.**

They emerged from the alley, shivering in cold, fatigue and boiling lust.

Sherlock waved a hand in the air to hail a cab and John couldn't suppress a mischievous smile when he heard that Sherlock had promised the driver a double fair if he managed to take them back to Baker Street in less than 40 minutes.

Thirty-seven minutes and a very satisfied cabbie later, they were jumping out of the taxi.

John could barely open the front door before being shoved into the hall and down on the thick carpet that covered the floor and the staircase.

Sherlock was lying on top of him, his long fingers rummaging all over John's body as if he was a precious piece of evidence Sherlock needed to investigate further and his head buried in his neck.

When he was about to rip off both the jacket and the jumper, John placed his hands on his chest and stopped him.

"What about going upstairs? I know Mrs Hudson – as much as the rest of the world – thinks we're shagging since the very beginning, but I'd like not to show her we're actually doing it. On the floor. In front of her door" John panted.

"Mmm she's not in. She went to her sister's; she'll be out of town for three days at least" Sherlock replied, nuzzling and nipping at his neck.

"Oh… Alright then" John nodded.

He lifted his back a bit to help Sherlock undress his upper side, then took his face between his hands, kissed him hard and let him go.

Sherlock lowered his head, brushing the tip of his tongue all the way down to John's chest and then the abs, caressing his whole torso and appreciating the fact that, though he had been dismissed some months ago, John way still in great shape.

He would have still liked him chubby, but that firmness of the muscles was definitely pleasurable.

John was moaning and sweating under him, and the perfume - a mixture of tea, mint shower gel and male pheromones – went immediately at Sherlock's head; the detective groaned, rolled his eyes and went biting and licking John's nipples until they got dark and flushed.

When Sherlock looked up, he saw John completely lost in pleasure: eyes half closed, swollen and wet lips, shallow breathing.

He grabbed the doctor by the hips, lift him a little and pushed his trousers and underwear down, loosing his already hard member; it was shorter than his own, but thicker and differently veined.

The thought of having such a very well put cock inside him made Sherlock almost lose his last bits of patience; however, he forced himself to cool down: he was not going to get fucked that very moment, both him and John were too close to their orgasm and having a quickie with John was out of question.

Instead, he closed his still gloved hand around John's prick and started moving slowly.

The pressure was light, almost teasing, and every now and then Sherlock brushed his thumb on the tip of John's penis to add a spark of pleasure.

"Oh fuck" John mumbled, before Sherlock's mouth covered his.

The double stimulation – the kiss and the wank – made John feel like he was in heaven; a sharp pain brought him back to Earth: Sherlock had bitten his earlobe.

"Look at me, John" Sherlock purred in his ear; John forced his eyes open: Sherlock was staring at him intensely, as if he wanted to penetrate the barrier of his skull and enter his brain.

Those feline, blue/green/grey eyes captured his attention and their looks locked together.

John didn't know it was possible, but the way they were staring at each other increased his pleasure over every limit he had ever experienced.

The increasing speed and pressure of Sherlock's hand on his penis, his gaze on him, the fact that he could still taste his friend's flavour in his mouth made John losing control completely.

He pressed his forehead against Sherlock's, closed his eyes and cried "Oh God!" as he came in his flatmate's hand.

As he finished coming, John's breathing started slowing down; he felt boneless, hot and happy.

He looked at Sherlock, who was smiling, and smiled back. Sherlock stood up quickly; he was staring at John's shot on his glove, then, with John's great surprise, he licked his leather glove clean before tossing it in one of his pockets.

He helped John stand, waited for him to rearrange his clothes and kissed him again.

John grabbed his hand and started climb the stairs.

As they walked in the flat, they looked at each other and concurrently said: "My room".

"I greatly doubt your shacking legs can manage to get upstairs to your room" Sherlock joked.

"Well, it may be true, but let's consider other important things: which room is dead-animals-and-creepy-experiments-free?" John asked

"I may be able to see your point" Sherlock admitted.

"Where can we find clean sheets and everything we need for this, ehm, particular activity?" John added.

"I changed my sheets three days ago…" the detective protested.

"But then you covered them in muddy footprints" the doctor pinpointed.

"And what do you mean when you say everything we need?"

John rolled his eyes; "I mean lube, genius. Don't want to get hurt, do you?"

"So your plan involves _you_ fucking _me_, I take" Sherlock said, clearing his voice.

"Well, it involves both ways actually" John teased.

"Good".

"And there's another reason I would like to have you in my room" John added, slightly embarrassed.

"And what's that?"

"You know, it may sound cheesy, but there's a strange golden light that hits my bed every day at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and I… well, I'd like to see your pearly white skin enlightened in gold while I make love to you.

I'm pretty sure it's going to be the greatest thing I'll ever see"; John was blushing and he lifted his gaze to meet Sherlock's face.

Sherlock caressed his cheek, then his chin, and finally kissed him.

"Let's go upstairs, then".

**Author here**** again: apparently I can't write porn without romantic features in it. Either I'll learn to deal with it or I'll manage to get a filthier mind ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as they reached John's room and opened the door, Sherlock remained baffled: he expected John's room to be neat, well organized and nearly obsessively clean; he also imagined it was impersonal, as other soldier's rooms.

Instead, John's room was, well, lived: there was his pajama pending from the backrest of his chair, his used laundry in a corner and one blond hair on the pillow.

So warm, Sherlock thought.

And indeed, here there was: the golden light John wanted to see on his body, spread on the flood.

He smiled.

Beside him, John grabbed his hand, brought it to his face and started kissing his fingers.

Sherlock ran his fingers through his blond hair and pulled him close to share a passionate kiss.

While kissing, they both started undressing, slowly but steadily, alternating soft pecks on the lips and long, wet love bites on necks and shoulders.

John finished to undress Sherlock first, 'cause he only wore the lovely purple shirt under the coat, and lowered his head to give his lover little nips on his chest and nipples.

Sherlock hurried to free John from his jumper and, after grabbing another handful of his muscles, moved lower and unzipped his jeans.

John murmured something Sherlock didn't quite catch, then stepped back and kicked off his shoes, socks and jeans; then again, he walked forward and pulled Sherlock trousers down, taking off also his posh shoes.

Both in their underwear, they stared at each other for a long while.

They couldn't have been more different: John was short, well built, still athletic and heavy after years of rugby and exercises; Sherlock thought he was spectacularly apt to protect people, both fighting against enemies and trying curing diseases.

Sherlock, on the contrary, was tall, thin and lithe; to John, he looked like angels should look: he was almost ethereal, such elegance and grace combined, but also something inside him pretty similar to God's fury when it was necessary.

All the lust and love John felt in himself was also very recognisable in Sherlock's eyes.

John put his arms around Sherlock's waist and they walked together to the bed; they got on it, then raised on their knees and pushed one against the other completely to resume the kissing, things entwined and groins brushing.

Hands were travelling on each other's body, caressing, exploring, then short after pressing and touching with need.

Sherlock lay down on his back, bringing John on top of him; he grabbed his arse, bringing their cocks to touch, even through the layers of cotton of their pants.

John moaned in Sherlock's mouth, then lowered his hands to slide them in the front of Sherlock's boxers, just before pulling them down; the detective got the hint, and pulled down John's slips too.

As they were both totally naked, John fumbled in the bottom drawer of his night stand and retrieved a bottle of massage oil.

He slicked his left hand and closed his deft fingers around both their shafts.

He gave a couple of slow strokes, tearing a long, satisfied moan out of Sherlock's mouth; then, he slicked his fingers again and started teasing his flatmate's hole.

Sherlock arched his back when John pushed half of his index inside him; "More" he whispered, and the doctor eagerly accomplished.

Pushing two fingers in, John felt the heat of his lover's body welcome him.

"_Oh Johnnn..._" Sherlock hummed, then propped up to kiss him again; he was shuddering, he was feeling the need of having that wonderful loyal man buried inside him so deeply and never let him go.

John retracted his fingers, grabbed Sherlock by the legs and brought him closer, as he could almost sit in his lap.

Sherlock tightened his long, elegant legs around Johns waist and, as soon as John positioned himself, he sank to take his sex inside him.

The very moment he felt Sherlock's hole open, John gave a light push with his hips and fully entered him; they groaned in accord, staying still for a while to appreciate their first contact.

Few moments later, John gave another, very little push to check whether Sherlock was ready to keep on or not, and when he moaned in satisfaction, John started moving.

Every thrust into Sherlock was like being enfolded in some foreign and exotic fabric, that was both smooth as silk and warm as cashmere; Sherlock , indeed, felt like he was being hit by a lightening made of pleasure each time that John pounded into him and found his prostate.

The thrust soon grew harder, faster and erratic; the two of them were lost in pleasure, moaning loudly with parted lips and closed eyes.

"J-John, please, let me..." Sherlock breathed.

"Oh, I'll be happy to..." John closed his hand around Sherlock's dick and, after few clever strokes, Sherlock came on his hand and chest murmuring a very sensual "John!".

Utterly subdued at the sight of Sherlock completely taken apart by lust, John pushed one or two times again then "My goodness, Sherlock!" he cried, while burying himself deeply inside his lover, and came in the velvety heat of his lover's body.

They both rolled on their side, facing each other while they regained their breath.

Suddenly, John laughed; Sherlock looked surprised for a moment, then realized why John was laughing:the golden light had reached the bed and was caressing his left hip.

John leaned towards Sherlock and kissed him sweetly on the lips, touching his body in the same spot where the light too was touching him.

"You were right" Sherlock said, "It looks very good on me".

"You know, I consider it a little experiment of mine" John said thoughtfully; "and since I'm living with a very good – and quite mad - scientist, I think it's my duty to recreate this experiment many many times before getting a final conclusion.

So, from now on, I'd like to have you in my bed like this for a very long while, to gather all the information I need about the perfect interaction between your body and the sun light. Do you think you may consider my investigation time-worthy?"

"Every thing that involves you, me, your warm bed and making love will always be time-worthy to me" Sherlock whispered.

"Good, because I know that's all I want in my life" John breathed, before lowering his mouth to meet Sherlock's once again.

**Author: That's it. It's finished. Please, R + R, and criticize if you think it's not good :)**


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